Curse of the Wolf: A Readers' Choice Adventure! Part 4

[mad_docs_of_lit]

Packing up your bag and shouldering it, you have to stretch from sitting so long whilst you were engrossed in reading. All of your movements feel exaggeratedly slow – you’re doing it on purpose, taking your time to feign a calm that is rapidly leaving you and to deny the irrational urge to run.

Setting off back along the path through the park, dusk seems to be falling a lot faster than it should be, even though you know full well that it’s just a normal night like any other. Twinkling stars begin to wink out of a clear, darkening sky. The howling in the trees sounds again, much closer.

Of course there are no such things as werewolves. You force yourself to look straight ahead, keeping your eyes fixed on the park gates that lead to the (deserted, darkening) country road. It’s obviously just a pet dog, but even a dog left to roam unattended could be dangerous enough – or so your galloping imagination tells you.

The next howl is so close that it makes you jump and you can’t help yourself from breaking out into a jog. Your bag thumps heavily against your hip and above you crows caw and take flight from the top tree branches. You think for a second that maybe you startled them and then you hear it: pattering footsteps behind you; it wasn’t you that startled them at all. Glancing back over your shoulder, all you have time to make out is a large, black shape, stalking you on all fours, before you throw your bag at it, put your head down and run full tilt towards the road.

Your lungs burn and your feet hammer against the track, but still the thing is gaining on you. If only you’d left sooner, left quicker! Saying a silent ‘thank god’ you pelt into the driveway of the farmhouse, running onto the porch and throwing yourself at the door, banging on it and calling for help. Just as you can feel hot breath against the back of your legs and the pain of something sharp raking your skin, the door opens and you are pulled inside the house, the door slamming shut again behind you.

Turning around to greet your saviour, you see a middle aged lady with greying curls and a very worried expression. She's dressed in knee high boots and a checked work shirt, like a farm worker and over her arm she carries a rifle.


[Poll #1731986]


Voting is open until 11:59 pm Friday 22 April, Pacific time.